


Define Me Down To The Smallest I Can Be

by PoisonWrites



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Medical, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, F/M, Hospitals, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Online Relationship, Panties
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-16 19:01:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4636635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonWrites/pseuds/PoisonWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey Way never fit in in LA, unhappily spending more time on his brother's couch than at work. When he's offered a job at a hospital in Chicago, he takes it without a second thought, leaving palm trees and sun in favor of ice and grey skies. Frank suggests Mikey use a kink website to meet people like him in Chicago, but he's caught by surprise when a handsome stranger messages him about wax burns.<br/>Flirting happens, as well as boys in skirts, Ray Toro with a dead body, Brendon Urie and his damn guitar, and more silk rope than anyone could ever want.<br/>Kinkverse, Nurse!Mikey, Tattoo artist!Pete, frequent cameos by guys in scrubs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Scribbled out an idea for this at the beginning of the summer, crushing together my nurse!au and my kink!au. Loosely based on the Image comic Sunstone. Rating will go up as chapters go on, and tags will be added.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is completely fictional. None of this ever happened, nor am I claiming it did. This is all a product of my imagination. I in no way profit from or make money off of this.
> 
> Enjoy!

There were a few things Mikey looked forward to after a 15 hour shift. The first was sliding off his shoes at the door, forgotten until his next shift. Second was Moz’s doggy breath and thumping tail as he pet his pit bull’s belly; he would throw her ball around for a few minutes, let her tire herself out until she was falling asleep at his feet. The third thing he looked forward to was the clicking of a pop top on a beer to the sound of his Mac booting up. Familiar beer, a happy dog, and happy feet, check, check, and check.

His ritual was familiar, something Mikey had been doing nearly every night since he moved to Chicago. Massaging his own feet, drinking a cheap beer, and prowling the fetish website Frank had slipped him while Gerard clamored around the kitchen. Stress-baking, stage one: initiated.

“Chicago? Do you know how far away that is?? That’s like-“ He paused, “really far. Fuck.” He slammed the cupboard doors above the oven closed, pacing to the fridge and swinging the door open so fast a pepper shaker fell off the top and rolled over to Frank. He stopped it with his foot, one thin eyebrow raised. 

“Babe, what exactly are you making?” Frank asked. He picked up the orange tabby cat lying on the floor, cuddling it to his chest in case more pepper and other assorted spices came to attack. The cat seemed used to Gerard’s aggressive culinary style and yawned, curling against his owner and getting little threads of orange fur all over his black sweater. 

“Grapes…” he said as he pulled out a bottle of wine from the fridge, briefly glancing at the label that read “Moscato”. He aggressively stabbed at the cork and twisted it out with a silver opener, a gift from their mother last Christmas. 

“Maybe some brownies later, a cake…did you buy the cocoa like I asked, Frankie? We’ve been out for like, two weeks.” Frank nodded in a “ _Yes dear”_ manner, and waved off his fiancé when he went to hand him a glass.

“Mikey?” he asked, waving the spare glass in his brother’s direction. Mikey took the glass and sipped, knowing it was going to be sweeter than he liked, but alcohol was always essential when dealing with a grumpy Gerard. Wine would take the edge off when he eventually did start baking, and probably set something on fire.

Gerard sat down at the kitchen table in the chair closest to Frank, the wicker back creaking under his slim figure. He crossed his legs and took a drink, his face relaxing slightly. He took this time to tuck an unruly red lock behind one ear, smoothing his flyaway hairs with his free hand.

“You know Frank and I are getting married in August, right? As in nine months from now. In Santa Barbara, with you as my best man. Who am I going to call for advice on flowers, tie colors, food; _Frank_?”

“It’s true, I’m helpless.” Frank nodded and pet Cheeto, the purring mass now asleep in his lap.

Mikey put his glass down on the table, adjusting himself so he could face his brother. “Gerard, with the raise I’m getting from this job, I can actually fly to Santa Barbara. I can get a hotel and stay all week to help you set up, not just the day of. Besides, you know the hospital here gives me shit hours, it’s like I don’t even have a job. I should apply to be your full time cat-feeder and couch warmer with as much time as I spend hanging out here instead of working.”

Gerard ran a hand through his hair, his habit of tugging at his roots giving away the frustration he felt. “I need to think about this. I’m gonna go…vape.” Frank flinched towards Gee, Cheeto flicking an ear in annoyance. It wasn’t news to anyone that Gerard was in an uphill battle against his arch-nemesis, the dreaded nicotine, per the request of his family and Frank. 

“Just vaping.” He patted his fiancé on the shoulder, “No funny business, promise.” He pecked his partner on the cheek and opened up the sliding door to the couple’s balcony, stepping out into the slightly cool night air that was a California November. A fresh breeze filled the room as he closed the door, air which Mikey knew he would miss when he was gone.

Frank turned from looking at Gerard on the balcony, obviously with a vape in his hand, and shrugged, “I stole all his cigarettes anyways. Even the stash he hides next to his socks. No worries.” He cocked his head and gave a cartoonish smile, and Mikey laughed.

“Sneaky bastard, you know he’ll have you by the short and curlies when he finds out. One bad chat with his editor and your ass is grass.” He made a quick, slicing motion across his throat.

Frank shrugged again, “Would rather have a pissy Gee than no Gee at all.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Mikey finishing his wine and Frank playing with Cheeto’s fur, his nubby paws. Frank wasn’t very good at the long, emotional talks like Gerard was, but he made it clear how he felt from the way his mouth pulled taunt at Mikey’s announcement, the way he ran a soothing thumb over his partner’s hand.

“So what is this website?” Mikey unfolded the note Frank slipped him, breaking the not-quite-awkward silence “Kinkpulse?” he scoffed at the off-color name. Obviously, discretion wasn’t the owner’s first priority when it came to naming their website.

“Well, you’re into that lifestyle, right?” There was humor behind his question, and Mikey blushed. 

It was kind of a shared secret between Mikey and Frank, the two accidentally meeting at the same “Kinksters of South LA” munch before Frank swirled around and ushered Gerard out of the locally owned pastry and bread shop. Luckily, he had yet to step foot inside, Frank just barley making the save. Mikey heard Frank say something along the lines of “Just furries. Like, big fuzzy dongs and all” before seeing their shadows move away from the pebbled glass of the store-front. Gerard was shaking his head in confusion.

Mikey almost dropped to his knees right there and thanked the good lord for Frank’s discretion, because god, he really didn’t want to know what his big brother liked to be called in bed, much less what Frank liked to call him. Ever since that incident, the two found themselves laughing without Gerard in the room, hanging out in Frank's kitchen and swapping work stories while Gerard scratched away at his desk.

“Well, I mean, yeah, but why give this to me now?” he felt the paper between his fingers, smudging the E of the address.

Frank winked “Hey, moving to a new city can be hard,” He saw Mikey visibly blanch, and his next sentence came out softer than the one before.

“Don’t worry, it’s only a hook-up site if you want it to be. A lot of it is just kinksters talking and asking questions, nothing too serious. I figure it’s an easy way to make friends in a big city like Chicago. 

Mikey suddenly had a realization and groaned, slumping down into his chair. He scrubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes, not looking at Frank when he asked, “Oh god, please don’t tell me this is how you and my brother met…?”

Frank jolted in his chair and let out a high pitched laugh, scaring Cheeto off his lap. The fat cat turned and glared at his owner before crawling into his bed on the opposite side of the room, fluffing himself up in annoyance.

“Oh, man! No, dude, vegan food truck all the way.” He made a slicing, ‘no’ hand gesture. “Which might as well be a fetish, chilly dogs that good I mean. But to answer your question, no. Would you really want to know if the answer was yes, though?”

“Fair enough.” Mikey chuckled, and slipped the note into his pocket just as Gerard came back inside. He smelled almost sickeningly sweet, the pungent smell of the vape clinging to his clothes. 

“Shit, what’s so funny? I heard Frankie howling out there, alerted all the dogs in the building.”

Mikey and Frank looked at one another, and Frank broke into more laugher as Mikey put his hands back to his face. He sighed at the thought of leaving the two of them to their own devices.

__

The fetish website wasn’t something Mikey actually remembered until he had been in Chicago for two weeks. Half of that time spent at the new hospital, breaks on his seemingly never-ending shifts spent sleeping on his feet in supply closets, or in the basement bathroom with his headphones on. The keys to the on-call rooms were a myth, something like Bigfoot or a 20-something resident that knew how to put in an IV without killing the patient. How many times could you miss a vein? A lot, apparently. 

Despite the long shifts and the hours spent dealing with a plethora of patients, loneliness set in pretty quick the first day Mikey was off. His first instinct was to slip on his shoes and drive to Gerard’s, pester him into drawing him something, and then steal his food while he was hard at work. Mikey was actually halfway out his apartment, keys in hand, before he realized that Gee was more than a day’s drive away, and driving that far with work the next day wasn’t something a well-adjusted adult like him did. He put his keys down on his kitchen table, frustrated with himself and Chicago as a whole. 

Chicago was cold, far fucking colder than LA ever was. Everyone was rude, snipping at him when he even so much as looked at someone the wrong way, like Frosty the Snowman shoved his carrot nose up their ass. Mikey didn’t own enough sweaters, and sure as hell didn’t have enough patience to deal with people whose personalities were colder than the damned ice frozen to his windshield. 

Instead of going out and attempting to make friends with what were probably polar bears roaming the streets of Illinois, Mikey stayed in, revisiting his old friend Netflix and exploring the site that Frank gave him. He had found the small, discreet note one day while folding laundry to the tune of the Grey’s Anatomy theme; slightly-washed and crumpled, still tucked into the pocket of his jeans.

That’s how Mikey ended up on Kinkpulse at 11pm three months later, a beer in his hand and the sleek red logo of the website glowing against its black background. That day at work had been…ugh. It was the day after Valentine’s Day, and Mikey was profoundly reminded of just how many unhappy people there were in Chicago. Everything from stab wounds to still-vibrating dildos walked through the door of Mercy Hospital, right into Mikey’s (at times baffled, at times deeply concerned) arms. It was…entertaining to say the least. 

After a long day at Mercy, Mikey wondered to himself why he found himself running into the particular pair of metaphorical arms he called his own. Kinkpulse was rife with undereducated kinksters, many of whom had a predilection towards accidents involving a lot of what Mikey saw at the hospital. _No, cockslayer99,_ he would type out in the “first-aid and aftercare” forum, _you can’t just “wait and see what happens”. Go to the hospital. Please._

Upon reflecting on why exactly he cared about the well-being of Mr. Cockslayer, Mikey reasoned that with his skills, helping some poor saps on the internet was the least he could do, and it made him feel good, knowing someone didn’t die because of him. In fact, he had made a pretty well-known name for himself in the forum after three months of helping people Not Die. People had recently so much as started addressing him by name in the forum (Kobra_Kidd), asking for his sage advice on things like carpet burns and whip welts. This was all fine and dandy to Mikey, a hurt human was a hurt human, no matter how kinky.

That night started out the same as ever. Plenty of chafing questions, and butt-stuff galore, as per-usual. One question did catch his eye though, one about burns and whether there was any special treatment or procedures for wax burns.

**xSandman33:** So i have never really used this forum, not sure about the etiquette on here, let me know if i fuck up. anyways, ended up with a pretty gnarly wax burn on my thigh from this weekend. any advice? help? (please?)

**Kobra_Kidd:** Hey @xSandman33, dm open?

**xSandman33:** Just added you, hit me with that wisdom Kobra my man. 

He headed over to the person’s page, opening their profile and quickly glancing over it, almost inadvertently. The person was a guy and…well, they were pretty hot. Black hair and tan skin suited him well, giving him a tall-dark-and-handsome look. He was shirtless in his profile photo, exposing broad shoulders and a thorn necklace tattoo that glided over each clavicle. Mikey stared at the dip of skin over muscle. Definitely hot.

There wasn’t much else to the guy’s profile except for the fact that he was 27 and was listed as a dom, which made Mikey raise an eyebrow. The wax burn had been on him, which wasn’t something you normally saw on a dom. He reminded himself to ask about that as he clicked on the letter icon symbolizing Sandman’s messages.

**Kobra_Kidd:** Hey, Kobra here. You burned yourself with wax? 

**xSandman33:** Yeah. pretty embarrassing what happened, actually.

**Kobra_Kidd:** I get it. I mean, sharing would help me help you but if it’s too personal…

**xSandman33:** Well, it was vday yesterday and. candles. lots of them. but by myself. this is going to make me sound like a total liar, but it actually wasn’t anything sexual. i was actually um…getting out of the tub. knocked one onto my leg, burnt the shit out of it.

**Kobra_Kidd:** Trust me when I say this, but I’m only laughing at you a little bit over here. I’m keeping it semi-professional. Mostly. How bad is the burn? Did you clean the burn yet?

**xSandman33:** Not too bad, just a little scorched, no gaping wound or anything. cleaned it and bandaged it. also, professional? you take care of hapless kinksters for a living?

**Kobra_Kidd:** You’re gonna wanna apply aloe at least twice a day, and take some pain meds when it hurts. Tylenol or Advil. Don’t go too crazy tho. And not quite. I’m a nurse, work at a hospital and everything.

**xSandman33:** Shit, you don’t say. and here i thought you were just the pretty face on your profile. i’m Pete, btw. not a nurse, obviously. 

**Kobra_Kidd:** Nice to meet you not-nurse Pete. You can call me Mikey, everyone does.

Mikey hesitated before he typed the next part of the message. Yeah, this guy Pete was hot, like, really hot. It had been a long time since Mikey initiated anything, though, and if he was being honest with himself, he was pretty rusty. He still watched the porn, owned the toys, and identified with the lifestyle, but as for practicing? The last dom he had was 5 months ago, and that only lasted a month before the guy went all Norman Bates on him. 

He sucked in a breath and typed.

**Kobra_Kidd:** You’re not so bad yourself, Pete. I like the tats, btw, but not just the tats.

**xSandman33:** Nurse Mikey are you flirting with me? have to say, with a cute submissive like you, it’s pretty tempting to flirt back ;)

Mikey let out the breath he was holding and smiled without knowing, silently crossing his fingers. He hoped this guy wasn’t another Norman Bates, and thought about the neck tattoo. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray Toro smells like a corpse, Ryan Ross is a pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more world building this chapter. More characters are introduced, and Mikey has a small crisis. Also, eating in inappropriate places. 
> 
> Warning for vomit mention, a self-harm metaphor, dead people, and normal medical stuff.

Work, work, and more work. With so many hours at the hospital, Mikey found it easy to forget about his personal life, what little he did have of one. Sometimes it was nice, to sink into your work, to feel like things were just the smallest bit out of control. Forgetting about the fact that you had maybe two friends to call up after a long day, and no one to fall asleep with, that was always welcome.

Letting your work define you, gently control you, could soothe the stress of everyday life. Although, some days, some nights like tonight, work getting in the way of Mikey’s personal life was anything but relaxing.

Mikey tapped his foot with the beat of the clock above reception’s desk as he waited for Karen to officially clock him out. The minute hand passed the 12; 10:00pm, and he cursed under his breath. 

“ _Shit._ ” He switched from tapping his foot to biting his nails, stepping up the nervous twitch. “Could you please go a little faster?” 

Karen looked up from her computer, pushing up her bright teal glasses. She was the only pop of color in the lobby, dismal grays accented with even sadder blues.

“You got a date, sweetie?”

 Mikey sighed and pushed his glasses up into his hair, scrubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms. He fought off a yawn, and instead focused on his aching feet.

“Sort of.” Kind of. “I was supposed to be doing something at ten.”

Karen sniffed and turned her eyes back to her screen, tapping in a few numbers, “Not my fault that patient in 114 decided to crash. Should feel good about yourself- you helped save a man’s life tonight”. 

The receipt machine next to her buzzed and spat out a small slip of paper, Mikey’s hours printed in tiny numbers next to tiny dates. She handed it to him, showing off fingernails that matched her glasses. She worked everyday at the hospital, except Sunday, Mikey had learned. Everyday, her nails were in the same pristine, orderly condition they were in the day before, her clothes and hair just a neat. 

Mikey took the time slip and nodded, hurrying out to his car after he bid a swift “ ‘night” to Karen. She waved after him despite her earlier prickliness, telling him to drive safe. He acknowledged her with a small grunt as the automatic doors flew open for him, and he hoped that was good enough. 

Karen was cute, Mikey would give her that. She was short and full-figured, with long eyelashes behind her glasses that sat perched on her button nose. Everyday when he came in, a hot coffee was sitting on the edge of her desk, his name written in a quick scrawl. 

“We get the same coffee” she had explained, alluding to when they first met in the hospital Starbucks. Two sugars, no cream, extra hot. She would always tap her fingers a second longer than necessary on the receipt machine after his finished printing, and when she bid him goodnight, her eyes lingered on him a second longer than necessary.

Mikey wasn’t quite sure why he was ignoring her flirting, when in any other situation he would have jumped at a chance to ask her out. He had nothing better to do, after all, and Chicago only seemed colder when you had no one to walk with. Perhaps he would take her out one weekend, make up for snapping at her that night.

His thoughts of asking Karen out were quickly swept to the side as Mikey’s phone began to vibrate in his coat pocket. Fingers swiping against the fur lining of his coat pocket, he picked up on the second ring. 

“Hey! Yeah, sorry. No, no no.” He chuckled, “I’m gonna be there soon, promise. Yeah. See you in a few.”

—

Mikey sat down in front of his laptop at 10:32, a carton of beef and broccoli in one hand and chopsticks in the other. Almost as soon as his desktop came to life, a video chat notification pinged loudly, popping up to reveal an incoming call. Mikey answered, this time on the first ring.

“Mikes!” A cheerful voice fluttered, clouded slightly with feedback. “Took you long enough, my lo mein is getting cold.” 

Pete. Pete holding up a greasy carton of lo mein and smiling that huge toothy grin that looked more like baring teeth. Mikey had grown accustom to the bright flash of teeth and the crinkled corners of his eyes over the five weeks the two had been talking. Turns out, Pete was a huge flirt, but was more talk than action.

No, they weren’t dating, despite their flirting. They had hooked up, one time, two times, thrice, over Skype, for no longer than half an hour each time. Each of them blushing to their necks, coincidentally both being inexperienced in the field of video-sex. Their sessions usually ended in giggling, both of them rolling over on their respective beds, facing each other, faces flushed and hearts beating fast. Luckily, one of them always cracked a joke before either one of them said something that would change their relationship.

For the most part, Mikey was happy with what they had; friends with very occasional benefits. The two spent far more time playing warcraft and watching b-movies together than talking about sex or kinks, which, for meeting Pete on a kink website, was a nice surprise. Not having more than a few friends in Chicago, the warmth that Mikey’s laptop generated while talking to Pete was almost enough to take the place of a real person. Almost. 

“So,” Pete continued, “Are we watching _The Blob_ tonight, or _Teenagers From Outer Space_?” He promptly stuffed a wad of noodles into his mouth, leaving room for Mikey to answer. Mikey watched as Pete slurped a noodle into his mouth, surely getting grease on his laptop.

“Well, seeing as I seem to be watching _The Blob_ already...” Pete flipped him off and Mikey tried and failed to restrain a childish giggle. “How about _Teenagers_?” 

“Fine by me” Pete answered with a mouth full of half-chewed noodles. 

“You are so gross,” Mikey commented, to which Pete fluttered his eyelashes before stuffing more food into his mouth. Mikey quickly followed suit and popped open his carton, digging into his dinner.

— 

“That was weird, and that’s saying something coming from me…” Pete said. Mid-movie he had moved to his bed, and was currently propped up against his headboard, massaging his full belly through his purple tee-shirt.

“It really does…” Mikey chuckled, raising his arms above his head and stretching, his spine popping from not having moved much in the past hour. He looked down and realized he was still in his maroon scrubs, having totally forgotten to change out of them once his laptop was in sight. He remembered the bit of puke on the hem of his pants, and cringed a little. 

“I gotta go in a minute. S’got to shower before bed. ‘M gross.”

Pete chuckled softy, “You sound cute when you’re sleepy,” As if on cue, Mikey yawned, huge and loud and slightly squeaky at the end. Pete pointed at his screen with conviction “See? See what I mean?”

Mikey shrugged and looked at Pete, who was grinning at him through the camera. He smiled back without meaning to, feeling something like stars twinkling in his belly. He wished he could punch himself in the gut.

Mikey had no idea where Pete was from, Kinkpulse listing an obviously fake city as his address. Mikey couldn’t blame him, he had the same fake city listed as his. It was fine, privacy was an important part of being online, and Mikey wasn’t inclined to ask where he really was from. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, fall for a guy hundreds of miles away, and be unable to do much about it. The way things were now? They were perfect, or as perfect as they could be. As long as Mikey didn’t get too invested, as long as he ignored the butterflies, things were perfect.

“Okay, I really have to go shower. For real.” Mikey insisted.

“Is there room for one more in your shower? Or, room for a laptop?” Pete suddenly asked. Mikey hadn’t been expecting the proposition (though he really should have), and he blushed a shade similar to that of his scrubs.

“With all those noodles you just ate, you think you got the energy?” Mikey paused. Things had been pretty vanilla up to that point, mostly light dom/sub roleplay, dirty talk, and a lot of _God if I was there_ s, but Mikey didn’t want to mince words when it came to…whatever they had. 

“Besides, if we keep this up, we’ll actually have to write up a contract.”

Pete’s response was fast, “Then let’s do it.”

Mikey looked away from his screen, felt his stomach flutter and knot, and not like before. It was stupid, _so stupid,_ he thought to himself, that he was getting worked up over the thought of committing to whatever him and Pete had, but…did he want to roll the dice on someone so far away? Someone who could be as far away as Gerard?

For some reason, Mikey’s thoughts jumped to Karen, sweet and innocent, sneaking glances at him from out the corner of her eyes while she thought Mikey wasn’t looking. He looked back up to his screen, to Pete, who was loud and in his face, right there, bravely laying out what he wanted. Mikey…

“Pete, isn’t that a bit serious? I mean…can’t we just keep things the way they were?”

Mikey couldn’t do it. 

This time it was Pete’s turn to look taken aback. “Oh…” It was rare that Pete looked unsure but, right then, it was obvious how he felt. And then his smile was back.

“Of course, dude. Does that mean I have to stop fantasizing about you sucking my dick?”

Mikey hated himself in that instant. He hated he couldn’t commit, when everything inside of him wanted to. He couldn't stand that he made Pete fake a smile. He felt his mouth dry up, and he wanted to reach down his own throat, pull out his own voice-box so he couldn’t say anything stupid ever again. He hated that he wanted Pete so much, knew that he would still have sex with him that night, but wouldn’t, couldn’t do anything more. All he could think to compare committing to Pete was handing him a straight-razor, holding out his wrists face-up, and saying “be gentle”. 

“Only if I can help you with those fantasies” Mikey put on his best smirk and picked up his laptop, taking it into the bathroom.

—

The night after Mikey had what he dubbed “The Great Commitment Meltdown” on video chat, followed by “The Great Kind-Of Shower Sex Recovery”, he asked Karen out on a date. She had sputtered and nearly dropped the stack of papers she was holding, fighting to keep her glasses on her nose. Mikey thought he was going to have to request a room for her any second, seeing as she looked like she was about to pass out. Her fingers shook a little a she pushed her glasses back in place.

She eventually snapped out of it, and suggested a “really cute ice cream place”, which was apparently across from a very nice park, right near her apartment. Mikey agreed, and she smiled in a way that Mikey could tell she was trying to hold back. 

Karen was safe. Karen asked him to have ice-cream, and then walk to a duck pond. She wasn’t serious. Pete…Pete was different.

“Dude, what the fuck, I have been trying to get Karen to notice me for two years now!” Ray said before biting into his sandwich.

Mikey was on his break, for once not making friends with the inside of a broom closest. He had decided to spend his break with one of his new friends at the hospital, Ray. Ray was the mortician, surprisingly normal for a guy that worked with stiffs. He was probably the most chill guy in the entire hospital and had great hair to boot. Really, what else did a guy need for you to be friends with him? 

“Maybe its cus you smell like dead people.” Mikey suggested, and Ray threw a piece of crust at him over the dead guy that sat between the two, hitting Mikey squarely on the nose.

“It’s not dead people, it’s dead people chemicals. Big difference.” He assured.

“Oh, I’m sure.” Mikey agreed sarcastically. “And hey, once I’m done kissing her this weekend I’ll put in a good word for you.” 

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to fuck with the guy who has every tool to make your death look like an accident?”

“Good point. I guess I’ll take back those good words, then.” Ray flipped him off.

They both were laughing, all lazy words and smiles in between Ray tapping away at his keyboard. Ray approved of him asking out Karen, it was obvious by the high five he awarded him. The opportunity to bust his balls, though? Way too obvious, and too much fun to pass up.

“You know, you never told me you liked Karen,” Ray began, and trailed off, giving Mikey a chance to answer. 

“I mean, she’s really cute.” Ray nodded in agreement, “And I figured, why not give it a try? I mean, she’s been making eyes at me ever since I started working here.” 

Ray huffed and gave an exaggerated eye roll, “Yeah, lucky you.”

Mikey was about to remark back, but the both of them turned when they heard feet coming down the stairs. A mass of floppy brown hair peeked around the corner, attached to it a skinny guy, only slightly taller than Mikey. Maroon scrubs and white shoes, a fellow nurse.  

“Nurse Way,” Mikey glared at the guy, scoffing at the formalities “Jesus fucking- Mikey, dude, get your ass upstairs.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m on my break,” he held up the half-eaten apple in his right hand.

“Hey, I was just told to come get you, don’t get me in trouble”

Mikey rolled his eyes, “Ryaaaaaaaan,” he whined, “Don’t be that guy. If they needed me, why didn’t they page me?”

Ryan began walking over to Mikey and Ray. “I don’t fucking know, man” he snatched the apple out of Mikey’s hand and took a bite out of its browning meat while Mikey muttered _gross._  

“Come on, move your lazy ass.” 

Mikey forced himself to stand up, waving off Ryan when he offered him his apple back.  

“Ugh, I know this is going to be puke. I know it. All the leads know I’m the only one who won’t call a tech to come clean it up, and that’s why they call me.”

Ryan shrugged and steered them towards the elevator, pressing the “up” button. Ray waved after the both of them, telling Mikey to text him about his date. Mikey walked three steps to the elevator backwards, and gave Ray a huge smile and a thumbs up. Ray just sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

“Lord, help me.”

Once they were inside the elevator and Ryan had pushed the button for the fifth floor, he turned to Mikey, arms crossed over his thin chest. 

“So, my boyfriend and I are going to be grabbing some beers after work and I was wondering if you wanted to join? It’s at that place near here, The Dewdrop? Supposed to be a good karaoke place, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

Ryan’s boyfriend was Brendon, a cute college guy who dropped in every few days, bringing Ryan lunch or snacks or sometimes just a kiss while he hurried back to class. The two had been going out for as long as Ryan had worked at the hospital, and Brendon was well-loved by the staff. He would bring his guitar sometimes and sing for the kids in the east wing, or the elderly patients in hospice, like some sort of too-good-to-be-true Disney prince. Some days the omnipotent cheeriness Brendon seemed to exude irritated Mikey, but most days, it was a nice change of pace. 

The most bizarre thing about Brendon, though, wasn’t the fact that he seemed to be a distant relative of the energizer bunny, but the ease with which he lightened up the usually silent and broody Ryan Ross. Mikey guessed that was why Ryan loved him, and how they had been dating since high school. Mikey liked hanging out with the pair of them; it was entertaining, to say the least.

“Yeah, totally.” He agreed, feeling his phone vibrate in his front pocket. “What time?”

“Our shifts end within half an hour of one another, right? So, 9:30?”

Mikey thought for a moment, trying to remember if he made plans with Pete or not. He hadn’t. “Yeah, sounds good to me.” 

The elevator pinged and the door flew open. Ryan clapped him on the shoulder, “Awesome. See you later!” And he was off, hurrying away from Mikey and down the hall. 

Mikey pressed a button for four floors up, and waited until the doors were closed before he checked his phone. Pete’s name in bright letters ran across his screen, causing Mikey to raise an eyebrow. Pete didn’t usually text Mikey during the day, unless they had something going on that night. He opened the message.

“Want to have a little fun?” Followed by a winking face. Mikey smiled, and typed out his reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: panties...and karaoke.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey is awkward, Gerard is a tattle-tale, and Frank is a saint, as per usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for vomit mentions, minor exhibitionism

By some miracle of God, Mikey found himself off work early that night. The hospital was quiet on all fronts, rounds were taken care of, and the staff was idly standing about, waiting for a new wave of insanity to hit. It was a half an hour before Mikey’s shift ended when the lead approached him, asking if he would like to go early.

“Better leave now,” They said, looking down at their clipboard, “before we decide to clock you in for overtime when the next wave hits.”

“Y-yeah!” He stuttered out, and made a beeline for the lobby. Before he left, he stopped by Karen’s desk, asking her out to the Dewdrop that night. The idea being that he didn’t want to play third wheel to Brendon and Ryan, the happiest couple on the planet earth, but in hindsight? He should have know better. His hindsight was always 20/20, or whatever the saying was. 

It wasn't that Karen was no fun, or he didn’t want her there. She was tons of fun,her and Brendon hitting it off right off the bat, deciding to sing a Queen duet after only five minutes of knowing each other. The problem Mikey was having was the distraction in his pants, the silk he felt against his crotch in place of his boxers. He was going to kill Pete, if he ever met him.

When Mikey replied to Pete’s text message with “Okay…?”, he had expected some sexting, maybe a racy picture or something, but instructions? He had nearly dropped his phone when the elevator stopped one floor before his, a radiologist shooting him a funny look as he scrambled to not crack his screen.

So, the first message _had_ been a picture, but it wasn’t a picture of Pete, like Mikey expected. It was a picture obviously taken off a computer screen, fuzzy and out of focus. It was clear enough, though, that Mikey could make out what it was; a thin, effeminate man, wearing a dark pair of glasses and nothing else, save for the lacy, pink panties that barely covered him. 

**Pete** : Nice glasses, reminded me of you. Like the panties too.

Mikey looked at the picture a beat too long, missed his floor. He decided to get off with the radiologist, another text coming in a second later.

**Pete** : Do you have any? You should. 

Mikey jammed the button for the next floor so fast, he was sure his hand blurred. The radiologist probably thought he was crazy by then, but his point would only be proven if Mikey got an unexpected hard-on while standing next to him. He typed out his reply before the doors opened.

**Mikey** : I have an old pair from my last relationship. Never really worn them.

**Pete** : Would you wear them for me?

Mikey didn’t hesitate. 

**Mikey** : Of course. Why? 

 **Pete** : When’s the next time you’re going out? 

 **Mikey** : Tonight, with a couple of friends to a bar. 

**Pete** : Wear them out tonight, under your jeans or whatever. Can you do that for me?

Mikey blushed as he passed a fellow nurse heading out of the men’s room, putting his back to the door once he was inside. He wasn’t fully hard, not yet, but things were better safe than sorry. If Pete kept bossing him around, he wasn’t sure how far things would go. He felt a chill run down his spine, a wicked lash of heat and arousal, and typed back.

**Mikey** : Yes, sir.

A minute, and Mikey realized what he typed. Maybe he took things too far, maybe he should have asked Pete what he liked to me called, maybe- his phone was pinging. 

**Pete** : I like that. Good boy. Can’t wait for pics tonight. Have fun!

And then it was over. The thought of wearing panties while out in public, where anyone could find out if he bent the wrong way, didn’t pull up his pants enough…he let out a shaky breath, thought about the vomit he was going to clean up, and the yelling the lead on that floor would do when he finally got there. Vomit, vomit, vomit.

Only now, he actually was wearing them, and thinking about vomit and other unsavory things were doing near nothing for what was happening in his pants. He had rushed home after getting off work early, stripped off his scrubs, and dug through what he dubbed his “fun box”; his collection of sex toys and whatnot.  

He came across the pink panties, crumpled and balled-up, but Victoria’s Secret tag still intact. They were a gaudy monstrosity, made of light, silky material that glittered in the light. Frills were around the legs and band, and the the back had a cute little bow right were Mikey’s ass began. His former dom had loved them when he picked them out, and when Mikey checked himself out in the mirror before putting his jeans on, he could see why.

He watched as Karen and Brendon were called on stage, running his nails down the rough fabric of his jeans to distract himself. He kept his eyes on his date. Her perky, cute face, her short curls bouncing along as she sang. She had no idea. Fuck.

Just as Mikey thought he couldn’t go anymore, his phone vibrated. Not a text, because it kept buzzing after Mikey ignored it the first time. He slid out of the booth he was in, possibly leaving smoke tracks in his wake with the speed with which he hightailed it to the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and slid his pants down to his thighs, careful to leave the panties intact. He answered his phone. 

“Pete, I swear to god-“

“Pete? Who’s Pete? Oooh, Mikey, you have a boyfriend?” Shit, definitely not Pete.

“Hey, Gerard. You’re calling late. Everything alright?” It was nearing 11 in Chicago, which meant it was almost 9 in LA. Gerard rarely ever called after seven, though, an odd habit for him considering he usually stayed up well into the AM’s.

“Frank got off work late. You know Muse? Yeah, apparently they take forever in the studio. Big divas, maybe?” It was then Mikey heard Frank in the background, saying something just out of the phone’s reach. 

“I don’t know, I’ll let Frankie tell you. He’s the one that wanted to talk to you anyways. Okay, love you! Totally telling mom you have a boyfriend! Byyyee!” Before Mikey could say anything, Gerard was passing off his phone to his fiancé.

“Hey, Mikey, just thought I would give you a call, check up on how things were going.” He sounded tired, but he always put in the extra hours at the studio when it mattered. You couldn’t catch him outside the studio during the work week, his hands always dancing over buttons or controls the way only a pro’s would. When Mikey would catch him in the studio after a long day’s work, he would stand up from his chair, pop the kinks in his back, and just _smile_. At the controls, at the recording devices, everything, with the same spark in his eyes Mikey saw in Gerard’s when he finally finished a chapter.  

“You’re working with Muse, huh? That’s a pretty big deal, you gotta be getting booked left and right.” Mikey swore he heard Gerard in the background, _‘Don’t I know it?’._ Before he went on, he moved to pull up his pants, cover himself slightly.   

“I know!” He could hear the smile in his voice, a proud momma to his child production company. Ever since Mikey knew him, he had been pouring his blood, sweat and tears into his company, working with some colorful characters to gain any sort of traction in the production scene. It seemed to be paying off, because now, he was working with famous weirdos, instead of just weirdos. 

“Next week, I have fucking _Green Day_ booked. Green Day, man. Can you believe it? Don’t answer that.” They chuckled, Mikey more awkwardly than Frank. He knew he shouldn’t be aroused still, and yet…  

“So how are things going? Did you take the advice I gave you?” 

Mikey looked down at his panties, and back up to the tile wall across from him. “You could say that…” he suggested. Frank made a _huh_ sound on the other end.

“Is Pete, you know, is he…?”

“Actually, yeah, he is. Funny story, we kinda were, you know…” no sound from Frank’s end, “…in the middle of something…”

Immediately, “Oh! Oh, shit, sorry Mikey, I, uh…” There was shuffling on his end, the sound of Frank hopefully stepping away from Gerard, and then, “Don’t worry, I won’t mention anything to Gerard. You’re gonna call me later and tell me what’s going on though, right?”

Mikey nodded, even though Frank couldn’t see him, “Right.”

“Okay, cool. I’ll make sure Gerard doesn’t have Donna calling you at 3 in the morning, asking about wedding plans.”

“You’re a saint, Frank.” Mikey sighed, the thought of his mother knowing about Pete sobering him up pretty well.

“I know,” Mikey could practically hear the wink Frank gave him, “night, Mikes. Stay safe!” 

“Will do. Night.”

He sighed when he hung up, and slumped back against the bathroom door. He patted the front of his jeans, almost involuntarily, feeling where he was at. Not bad, for a conversation that involved his mom and his brother, but nothing he could send Pete. His head banged against the back of the door, and he pushed his long bangs out of his face. 

Being a sub after such a long time of inactivity was…difficult, to say the least. There was always the exciting thrill of being caught, or tied up, or whatever, but there was also the pressure to perform, the little backflips Mikey’s stomach did when he knew he messed up, and not in the sexy way.  

There was another reason Mikey wasn’t about to start inviting Pete over for coffee and kinky sex; Pete was probably used to one sub after another, the way he handled himself. If he caught a hint that Mikey was rusty, at best, who knew how fast he would tuck tail and run? An inexperienced sub could be no fun, and tonight was proof enough of that. He just hoped Pete would be willing to adjust his plans. 

Just as Mikey was getting his bearings, mentally preparing himself to face his friends again, there was a knock at the door. 

“Mikey?” Came a soft voice from the other side. Karen, probably wondering where he got off to. Shit, he had missed her whole performance. 

He moved away from the door, shuffling to button his pants, “Sorry,” he began, finally moving to the door to open it. “Got a call from my brother while I was in there.” 

Karen looked a bit concerned, but she shrugged anyways, looking over her shoulder towards the bar. “So uh, you wanna have one last beer before we leave? It’s getting late, and my shift starts at 8 tomorrow…”

“Yeah!” Mikey gave one final, firm tug to his pants before heading out of the bathroom, making sure nothing was revealed. “Let me get this round, though, okay?” Hopefully a free beer would help Karen not completely hate him.

She wrinkled her nose, a career woman through and through, but she nodded, accepting his offer. She had bought them their first two beers anyways. She headed back to the booth with Ryan and Brendon, while Mikey headed to the counter to get their beers. 

“Uh…” He looked over the alcohol menu briefly before he resigned himself to the Chicago lifestyle, “I’ll take two Old Style’s, thanks.” He smiled at the bartender, who just grunted and wandered off to get the beers.

This time, when Mikey’s phone vibrated, it actually was Pete. He fished it back out of his pocket, the phone glowing in the dim light of the bar.

**Pete** : Enjoying yourself? 

Mikey smiled, despite the night thus far. Pete really was getting a kick out of this, and he had to admit, he was too. Putting aside the awkward phone conversation, the panties had been pretty thrilling, if thrilling was the right word. 

**Mikey** : You could say that ;)

Pete was quick to respond, and Mikey felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought of Pete waiting for Mikey, waiting for his texts. This was one of the many things he missed about having a dom, the control a sub had. Doms made the rules, and were the ones technically in control, but the subs? There was the thrill of power that came with being a sub, the dom being completely under the sub’s spell. The fact that, when a dom and a sub were in a scene, the only thing the dom was thinking of was the sub, the only thing they wanted was Mikey. 

**Pete** : Why no pics, then?

**Mikey** : Maybe I’m saving myself for something else 

**Pete** : Like…?

There was the temptation to draw out the suspense, make Pete wait on edge until he text him back an hour later, but he liked Pete. He would save the teasing for another time. 

**Mikey** : Like, are you going to be near your computer in an hour?

**Pete** : If I wasn’t going to be, I am now

Mikey smirked at his phone, and text back ‘ _see you then’_ with a winky face at the end. He slid his phone back into his pocket, just as the bartender was back with his drinks.   

“Sorry about the wait.” He said as he popped the caps off the beer for Mikey. Mikey picked up the cold bottles, and went to head back to his booth. As he turned, he bumped into a guy standing right next to him, tall and thin, with short hair and dressed in odd neon colors that stood out in the darkness.

“Oh, my bad,” The guy stepped back, and openly looked Mikey up and down. “Got lost checkin’ out that fine ass of yours. Shame you have to sit on it.”

Mikey was torn between laughing and slapping the guy, but his hands were occupied with the bottles he was holding. Nervous laughter it was, then.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying! How ‘bout this: you, me, handcuffs, and a bottle of that knockoff Cristal they sell at the gas station down the street. What do you say?” 

The guy was cute, Mikey would give him that, but…”Not in your lifetime, man.” Pretty gross. He didn’t even know things like that happened in real life until just then. He wondered if this was how girls felt when they went to clubs.

He shrugged, unfazed by Mikey’s rejection. “Fair enough. Hey!” and then he was gone, flouncing after someone leaving the bar. Really weird.

Mikey headed back to his table, and slid Karen her beer. He got into the booth next to her, upholstery cracked and worn from years of use. She said something, but Mikey just took a sip of his beer, lost in thoughts concerning the strange neon man. Apparently, whatever Karen had said had been directed at Mikey, and when he didn’t respond, Ryan raised an eyebrow at him.

“You okay, dude?” Him and Brendon’s hands were clasped on the table in front of him. Maybe he should reach of Karen’s hand? It would be a nice gesture. Maybe. He took another sip of his beer, drummed his fingers on his knees.

“I think I just got hit on,” He stared at the door the man had left through, eyeing it in case he came back for more.

“That happens.” Ryan said nonchalantly, looking away from Mikey and closing his eyes. He leaned his head against Brendon’s shoulder, relaxing onto his partner. “‘I don’t know about you guys, but I’m beat.”

Mikey looked away from the couple, out onto the floor where other couples danced to the music pounding through the bar. He couldn’t wait to get home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Pete's POV. Travie Mccoy is a mama bear. Lindsey is too gay to handle Pete.
> 
> \--
> 
> Also! I have been updating twice a week (my formula being post a chapter after only the next one is finished), but I go back to school full time next week, so updates might slow to once a week. Who knows. Maybe. (If I can tear myself away from this story)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete's POV. The gang goes clubbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for social drinking, accidental coming-out

Pete woke up that morning in one of the best moods of his life. It was amazing what good sex could do for a man, sex so good the fact that it wasn’t in person didn’t matter at all. Mikey must have been some special, kinky sex god, sent down from the heavens above to show Pete the errors of his regrettably long, heterosexual phase. 

He rolled out of his bed in his underwear and padded to the bathroom where he brushed his teeth and got ready for the day. After a quick shower, a shave, and throwing on some halfway clean clothes, Pete left his small apartment 10 minutes late for work. His roommate, Patrick, waved goodbye to him with a mouth full of cereal, reading what looked to be a guitar magazine. He didn’t have to leave for work for another hour, the lucky bastard.

Despite being late, Pete strolled down the icy sidewalk at a lazy pace, sleep still heavy in his bones. He took in the morning air and the feel of his relaxed muscles after a night of fun, having gotten amazing sleep after he bid Mikey goodnight. He was almost whistling, that’s how good he felt. He would be whistling, if he knew how.

Pete had never really known the thrill of being a dom until last night, a fact that he wasn’t sure if he wanted Mikey to know yet. He had role-played with a couple of subs online, and even dabbled with his ex-girlfriend, but for real? Nothing could beat the feeling, the odd pride he hadn’t been expecting when the scene he planned went even better than he thought.

The panties had been a spur of the moment decision, something Pete had conjured up while jerking off that afternoon. He had only halfway expected Mikey to go along with it, feeling a warm, fuzziness like static all over his body when Mikey had agreed. The ‘yes, sir’ had been the cherry on top, and now Pete’s imagination was in overdrive. What should be plan for their next scene; skirts? Ropes? A collar, maybe? 

Pete scratched the back of his head, feeling like the planning aspect would go a lot smoother if they had a solid contract. He didn’t want to push Mikey, make him feeling like Pete was forcing him, but what hurt could a contract do? It wasn’t like they had to start dating…which was a whole other ball game, in Pete’s opinion. Mikey would laugh in his face if he saw him in real life, a guy just scratching five foot five with only the internet’s advice on how to be a proper dom. Dating, meeting up in real life, if that was even an option, could wait. A contract on the other hand, maybe not so much.

Pete arrived at his work half an hour late, his boss giving him what was definitely a death glare from where she stood in the corner, talking loudly into her cell to what sounded like a client. She covered the mouthpiece when Pete walked closer, whisper-yelling, “You’re lucky your first client called out, Wentz.”

Pete nodded but didn’t stop to chat, knowing the bitching and ball-busting was far from over. He headed back to his workspace, taking care to knock on the doors he passed, letting everyone know he was in. Each of the senior employees had their own, albeit tiny, rooms they worked in, decorated in ways that were probably more telling of their personalities than initially anticipated.  

Hayley’s room was pink, lined with Hello Kitty merch and 60’s pop art, Lindsey’s was red and black, several painted guitar’s mounted on the wall next to her own tattoo designs. Andy’s room was a plain white, but the walls were mostly covered in his signature, Japanese inspired tattoo designs, and Pete’s?

Pete flipped on the lights to his room, illuminating the black walls and the Halloween decorations scattered around its small space. He plugged in the purple lights that hung from the ceiling, and put back a fake pumpkin that had fallen off its shelf. His tattoo designs that hung on his walls were much the same as the surrounding decor, cartoon bats and skeletons being his most frequently requested designs. If you were in Chicago, and you wanted a creepy, Burton-esque tattoo, Pete was your man.

After a minute of petering around his room, cleaning up stray paper and sketches from the night before, Andy poked his head in. His long hair was held back in a scrunchy that looked like something Hayley lent him, his shirt matching the powdery, purple fabric.

“Hey, so last night something funky happened to my red ink? Came in this morning and it was everywhere, and I do mean everywhere. Looked like someone slaughtered a yeti in there. Anyways, can I barrow yours? I’ll pay you back next paycheck.” 

Pete didn’t hesitate, just reached into his drawer and pulled out a bottle of red ink, tossing it to Andy. 

“Bring me back what you don’t use,” and he smiled in his coworker’s direction. Andy just stood at the door, holding the red ink bottle and staring at Pete like he tossed him a severed hand. 

“Oooookay…” Andy said after a minute, looking Pete up and down, “See, this is the part where you bust my balls about paying you back. Not that I’m complaining, I like this new, _chill_ Pete,” Pete glared at him for that, “but what’s gotten into you, man?”

Pete began taking his utensils out, as well as his antiseptic, getting everything ready before his first client came in.

“What? I had a good night last night, that’s all.” He shrugged, crinkling the disposable bag a needle was in. He turned to pull out the small cups he would be putting his paint in, away from Andy.

Andy hummed at first, and then yelled down the parlor’s hall. “Hey, Travie!” he called to the parlor’s resident piercer, “Pete got laid last night!”

“Did _not_ need to know that!” Came Hayley’s voice from a room over, and two sets of feet could be heard approaching Pete’s door. When he turned around, Lindsey and Travie were peering into the room along with Andy.

“I never said that,” Pete said softly after a minute, breaking the silence while the group continued to stare. “You guys are gossip vultures, by the way.” He pointed an accusing finger at them, glaring.

“Out with it Pete, I have a client that’s gonna be here any second,” Lindsey chimed in. She really was a take-no-bull kind of gal, and Pete liked that about her. He would of said it was a shame she was a lesbian, if he hadn’t been so gay himself. Apparently. He was still figuring that part out.

“Why do you care, you’re gay.”

She twisted one of her black pigtails and shrugged. “Men fascinate me.”

“I think what she means,” Travie finally spoke up, “is that we should celebrate at least one of us getting laid.”

Andy focused his attention to the tile floor, squeaked the sole of his converse on it, “Speak for yourself.”

“Okay,” Pete said, pointing again at Andy, “we’ll get back to that later. Anyways, you guys know Ashlee and I just broke up-” 

Travie scoffed and stage whispered to Andy out the corner of his mouth, “ _Like two months ago…_ ”

“-do you guys really think I would be going out and fucking around so soon?” 

They all nodded.

“Mmmhm.”

“Yup.” 

“Definitely.”

Pete rolled his eyes, “How can you all think so little of me?” He placed his hand over his heart, feigning a wound before sobering up. All eyes were still on him, and Lindsey shifted impatiently. 

“…Okay I totally did. Technically.”

Andy snapped his fingers, “Knew it. Got a sixth sense for this sort of thing.” 

“Technically?” Lindsey raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yeah, technically. Like, on video chat. Let me tell you, you guys have really been missing out if you’re limiting your sex to the only-in-person type.”

Travie leaned forward a little bit, lowering his voice despite the fact that Hayley’s tattoo gun was providing enough white noise to drown out their conversation. 

“So, like, what did you two…you know…” he wiggled his eyebrows. Pete laughed out loud.

“Just, I don’t know,” He waved his hand, like he was trying to grasp a thought, “what you would normally do. But online.” His friends didn’t know he was currently acting as a dom, so explaining how his online sex life functioned while leaving that out was a little difficult.

“I…don’t follow.” Lindsey said.

Pete sighed, turning away from the group and back to his table. “I don’t know, him and I just-“ 

“Him?” Andy spoke up, voiced pitched just above how it normally sounded, “As in a guy?”

Pete flushed up and down his neck. He wasn’t exactly out to his coworkers, and he just slipped at probably the worst time. It was hard remembering who knew about his sexuality and who didn’t, the only people on his sexuality black list being his parents. It wasn’t that he didn’t want them to know, he just wanted to do it the right way; a right place, right time kind of deal.

“Yeah, him and I, we met-“ He was cut off when he found himself being pulled face-first into Travie’s chest, a bear hug to rival an actual bear.

“I’m so proud of you, lil man,” Travie cooed, hugging Pete to him like a little kid, “I’m so happy you’re finally discovering yourself.”

“What are you talking about?” He asked, muffled against Travie’s shirt. He was still being hugged, and, knowing Travie, he was probably going to be there for a while. “I’ve never mentioned anything about liking men before, have I?”

Andy nodded in Lindsey’s direction, “She knew.” Lindsey just shrugged. 

“Can’t fool a lesbian.”

“ _Riiiight,”_ Pete nodded. Travie had finally let up on the hug, and he stepped back from Pete just slightly. 

“Why don’t we all go out and get drinks tonight, celebrate this momentous occasion?”  

Lindsey scoffed from her place, still leaning against the doorframe, “You’re buying, yeah?”

“I’ll buy one round,” Travie offered, to which they all eventually agreed to. They agreed on a club just around the corner from the tattoo parlor, a pretty hip place for the side of Chicago they were on. They all eventually headed back to their separate rooms, Lindsey’s client showing up just as they all decided to meet at 9.

Before he left, Andy walked over and clapped Pete on the shoulder. “I’m happy for you, man. Really.” He smiled, and Pete grinned back.

“Thanks.” Andy turned to leave, and Pete called out to him just as he was leaving the room. “Hey!”

Andy turned, the purple scrunchy in his hair flopping over his shoulder, “Yeah?”

“If you used the whole bottle of ink, you’re buying me my next set.” Andy grinned wider, and flipped him off. 

—

Pete shot Mikey a text reading, “We need to talk”, sometime around 5. He had been stewing on it all day, whether or not he should bring up the subject of a contract again with Mikey. He finally decided on yeah, yeah he should, because whenever it seemed like he was coming up with a fun, new fantasy, he hit the ‘ _would this really be okay?_ ’ roadblock. That little fact always managed to trip up his sexy, future plans. 

“I don’t know,” He somewhat shouted over the music of the club, glancing at his friend, William, next to him, “I just feel like it’s the most ‘ _Safe and Sane_ ’ way to go.” 

Bill had been the one to introduce Pete to BDSM, Pete having found his stash of toys one night after drunkenly stumbling into his bedroom, having had one too many beers at their band’s show that night. Unfortunately for Bill, that particular drunken memory hadn’t been one Pete forgot. He confronted Bill about it the next morning while he swallowed down aspirin with black coffee, Bill more than happy to indulge Pete’s curious questions. It was then, while hearing about Bill’s experiences as a sub, that Pete realized he might have more than just a passing interest in the scene. Him and Bill also ended up making out two nights later on Pete’s couch, but that was besides the point.

Bill sipped the neon, purple martini he held and nodded along, “Yeah, I agree. Seems like a no-brainer, after what you told me about. Weird he hasn’t text you back, though. You know why he hasn’t?”

“He just said he was really busy, and that we would talk later.” He made eye contact with his own drink, stirred the blue liquid with his straw and watched it swirl into a mini-tornado. 

Bill hummed and sipped his drink, the two not saying much of anything to one another until a man dressed in neon colors approached them, slapping a heavy hand on both their shoulders. 

“Pete! My man, how you doin’ tonight?” He turned to Bill, “And William…” a quick look up and down Bill’s thin body, “looking stunning, as per usual.” He winked.

Bill shrugged the man’s hand off his shoulder, “Gabe. What’s up?”

Gabe’s hand still lingered on Pete’s shoulder, and Pete didn’t shrug him off. Gabe was loud, overbearing, and sometimes didn’t understand personal boundaries, which was all fine with Pete. It was probably why the two had been friends for years, Pete staying still while everyone else pulled away.

“Nothing much, just thought I would come say hi to my best buds.” He went to take Pete’s drink out of his hand, and Pete let him. “Besides, tonight’s a slow night, no one really sticking out to me. Except you, Bill.” He gave a winning grin, all bright, white teeth. Bill rolled his eyes. 

“Oh man,” He said after he finished Pete’s drink, leaving only a lone ice cube, “you should of seen the sweet little piece I came across last night at the Dewdrop. Legs up to his fucking chin, swear to god.”

“You went to the Dewdrop?” Pete raised his eyebrows, and not just at the drink he missed out on. “That place is a shithole, man. Not worth making the hike across town, in my opinion.” he waved over the bartender closest to him, slid him his empty cup. 

“Yeah, there’s plenty of shitholes around here to choose from.” Bill snarked over the lip of his glass. 

“Guys, it’s right next to the hospital!” And when the pair just stared at him, “Nurses, bro! Hot nurses!” A small murmur of understanding came from the two of them. At the mention of nurses, Bill shot Pete a look out of the corner of his eye, a sly glint in them. 

“Oh, Pete would know all about hot nurses…”

“Dude, what?” Gabe’s head was whirling to look at him so fast, Pete almost got vertigo just from watching him. “Actually, hold that thought. Hot chick at the end of the bar.” And he was off. Knowing Gabe, that was the last time either of them were going to see him for the night.

When Pete was sure Gabe was out of earshot (not that that was a hard thing to ensure in the pulsing club), he lightly punched Bill on the arm. Bill flinched a little, but sighed in a way like he was expecting it.

“Dude! Keep it down, will you?” Pete’s friends knowing he was experimenting with his sexuality was one thing, everyone was doing it nowadays, but everyone knowing he wanted to fuck a guy tied up and in lingerie? Different story. 

“I don’t need everyone and their mom knowing about Mikey, you know?”  

“It’s just Gabe,” he said sheepishly, “he’s hardly everyone. Besides, he won’t even remember what I said five minutes from now, if that girl has anything to say about it.” He pointed in the direction Gabe had run off to, the girl he had been chasing now sitting on his lap. She tucked an invisible strand of hair behind Gabe’s ear, her long fingers lingering on his neck a beat too long to be friendly. 

“This whole thing has just been really weird for me, figuring out my sexuality and all.” He looked down at his cup, half finished from his sips. He felt his muscles begin to tighten again, the relaxation of the night before finally wearing off as the twenty-four hour mark approached. His body was turning back into a pumpkin, the clock striking midnight before he was ready. He rubbed the back of his neck, felt the tension in it. 

“I think I’m going to turn in a little early tonight. Can’t be late for work again tomorrow.” He dug his wallet out and left $30 on the counter for the bartender, the money tucked under his glass.

Gabe looked up from finishing his drink, “Want me to walk you home?”

Pete waved him off, thoughts of giving Mikey a call on the way home clouding his mind, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you at Joe’s tomorrow, though, we can talk more there.” 

“Got it. Night!” The taller man saluted Pete, and Pete did the same back. 

On his way out, Pete stopped by the coat check and grabbed his downy winter jacket, slipping it on before heading out into the tundra. He was grateful he remembered the jacket, because when he stepped outside, a fresh layer of snow blanketed the ground. It was still snowing too, little flecks catching in Pete’s hair and melting just as quickly. 

He dug his cellphone out of his pocket after slipping on his fingerless gloves, too cold to go without, and scrolled quickly through his contacts before finding Mikey’s name. He bid a silent prayer to the heavens, hoping he wasn’t coming across as desperate or annoying, then dialed his number.

It rang three times, Pete’s stomach sinking. He crunched past an alley, and another bar with patrons flooding in, a perfect night to hunker down and get a fuzzy, warm buzz going. Pete’s buzz had already worn off. The phone kept ringing.

“Hey, this is Mikey-“ his voice suddenly cutting in.

“Mikey!” Pete had begun to give up on him, almost losing hope, almost…

“-leave a number after the beep. I’ll call you back…maybe.” A long, harsh beep, Pete’s face falling to the tune. He pulled his phone away from his ear, hitting the ‘ _end call_ ’ button. He really tried not to get his stomach in a twist, but there it was, the familiar sting of anxiety. 

He dropped his phone back into his pocket, and began shuffling down the icy sidewalk, taking the long way back to his apartment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Pete angsts, a lot. Also, band practice!
> 
> \--
> 
> Honestly, I can't even write a good description right now I'm so tired. Tis the life of an actual, real life, nursing student. Pour one out for me, guys, this week has been a rough one.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete and Patrick's apartment is cold, Patrick spends a lot of time as a blanket-burrito.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for masturbation, implied pet-play (including mentions of collars, leashes, tails, and all that other good stuff), coming out

Pete was one block past where he hung up before his phone was ringing again, buzzing crazily in his pocket. 

“Hello?” 

“Pete!” Mikey’s voice, and filled with what sounded like relief. Pete almost dropped to his knees in the middle of the sidewalk, his smile so big he knew his cheeks were going to hurt later. He didn’t care though, hearing Mikey’s voice was worth smiling for. 

“Sorry for missing you a second ago, there was this patient, diabetic, he was supposed to have a sitter but somehow the timetables got mixed up and, fuck, I have’t slept in going on 28 hours because I took up a double that I didn’t think through and—“

“Hey! Hey…” Pete soothed. Mikey’s mouth was going about a mile a minute, not making much sense at all. On a good day, Pete understood half his nursing jargon, and now? He had understood ‘ _diabetic_ ’. Call him Florence Nightingale.

“I’m just…” the other man took what sounded like a steadying breath on his end, his voice sounding a bit more stable when he was back, “it’s nice to hear from you Pete.”

Pete stopped where he was walking. Around him, the streets were silent save for the soft sound of the snow hitting the ground, the flakes becoming fatter and fatter. It was rare Chicago was this quiet, rare that Pete could hear himself breath. When he exhaled, a puff of air formed in front of his face, quickly carried away by a chilly breeze.

“It’s nice to hear from you too, Mikey.”

Mikey hummed on his end of the phone, and Pete could imagine the flush in his cheeks, the one that was always there after they finished a scene or they said goodnight to each other through video feedback. It was like he could see the little tick that Mikey had when he knew he was blushing, where he scratched his nose to inadvertently cover his cheeks. Pete had noticed it their first week of chatting.

“So, what was it you wanted to talk about?” Mikey asked.

“Uh…” Pete hesitated, looking around the barren street he was on, “Is this a good time to talk? For you, that is.”

“As good a time as any,” Mikey said lightly. “I’m holed up in a broom closet right now, taking my break before I finish my last four hours. Too cold to take my break outside.”

Pete looked around at the snow, piling up thicker and thicker. There would be half a foot in no time, maybe he would get out of work. “I know the feeling…Is it snowing where you are?” Maybe Mikey would as well. 

“I don’t know, I haven’t looked out a window since this morning.” He sounded exasperated, and sleepy. Right after he thought that, Mikey yawned, and Pete swelled with pride at how well he was getting to know Mikey. 

“I’m sorry…Look, you don’t have to like, answer this right now, think on it if you need to, but…” He took a deep breath. Now or never. “I think we should draw up a contract. And, I know you said you didn’t want things to get too serious, but I don’t think a contract has to be serious, you know?” It was Pete’s turn to talk a mile a minute.

“Besides, I like you, Mikey, and I don’t want to hurt you. Well, unless you consent to it, but that’s different.” Mikey’s breathy laugh could be heard over the phone, a good sign, in Pete’s opinion. “Just, please think about it. Please?” 

Mikey was quiet for a minute, the sound of a small tapping could be heard in the background. He was drumming his fingers on something. 

“You’re okay if I think about it for tonight?” Pete jolted a little, realizing Mikey wasn’t saying no. 

“Yeah! Yeah, take all the time you need. No pressure.” He was cool, really. Cool as a cucumber. Maybe a tad more literally than figuratively, but still. Pete wasn’t anxious for Mikey to make his decision at all. Nope.

Mikey promised Pete in an even, sincere tone that he would get back to him, and Pete believed him, bouncing on his toes the whole way back to his apartment. It wasn’t that his hopes were up, because spoiler alert, they were, it was also that out of anyone he would like to be waiting on, Mikey was the one person he would gladly wait for. 

When he opened his door, Pete didn’t even frown when Patrick snapped that he was letting snow in, the swirl of flurries that came in with Pete catching the arm of their couch and floor. Maybe he was relaxing, loosening up like Andy said. His mood swings had been less frequent; not cured, but a fraction, an iota better, like when he was dating Ashlee and the two had been happy.

“Why are you smiling so much?” Patrick looked away from the television, a quilted, human burrito. “What’s been up with you lately, man?”

Pete turned his smile to Patrick and just winked, causing the younger man to sigh and shake his head. Whatever was going on, Pete felt amazing, and Mikey? He could only hope he felt the same.

—

Pete was jolted out of his sleep by a heavy banging on his door. After a second of calming his pounding heart (because who wouldn’t freak out if they were awoken to loud knocking?), he rolled out of bed, flicked on his bedside lamp, and unlocked his door. To what should have been no surprise to him, Patrick stood there, disheveled and holding their cordless phone.

“It’s for you,” he shoved it into Pete’s chest, “woke me up…” 

Pete watched as Patrick shuffled back to the couch, approximately four blankets piled on top of it. Patrick’s room got way too drafty in the winter, so he usually set up camp on the futon, the only space heater the pair could afford planted in the corner of the room. Pete glanced at his clock; 5am. No wonder Patrick was grumpy.

“Hello?” He said, feeling his jaw still tight with sleep. He rolled back into his bed, mimicking the cocoon Patrick was known for around their apartment, and snapped his light back off. 

“Hi Pete, it’s Sarah,” Pete’s boss, and perky, despite the time.“Don’t worry about coming into work today, I’m closing the shop up because of the snow. See you soon, bye.”

“Bye…” He said as the other end went dead. Score one for him for predicting his day off work, and for his next trick? Well, that was a no-brainer. 

Instead of falling back asleep instantly, Pete took to his own phone, scrolling through it idly before happening across his folder of pictures labeled “Kobra Kid”. He thought it was a cute homage to their first encounter, and was subtle enough to where he could brush the photos off as some amateur porn star, if anyone asked.  

Not that they were all porn, only some. The pictures were half cute, half sexy, more than a handful of them including Mikey in a compromising position that Pete adored. Him in a pair of cute panties, his neck with a pale pink collar wrapped around it, and his personal favorite; Mikey, from the waist down, a fluffy white tail between his cheeks, obviously attached to a plug.

Without thinking about it, Pete’s hand found its way into his boxers, slightly tighter after the pictures. In his mind, a scene played out involving Mikey in that same tail, a collar, a leash, and some ears, maybe? If he knew where to get them. He imagined spanking, and lots of it, and Mikey’s lips, saying over and over again “Yes master, yes sir.”

Pete came hard into his own hand, stars bursting behind his closed eyelids and his muscles shuttering. He pulled out a handful of tissues from the box next to his bed, and as he cleaned himself up, he grimaced, and not just at the cold spunk.

Him and Mikey really needed that contract.

—

Later that morning, after breakfast had been eaten and bodies had been washed, Pete dragged Patrick out of their warm apartment into the nearly knee-deep snow that had turned Chicago into an honorary Canadian city overnight. Patrick looked like a moody penguin, the way he waddle through the snow, bundled to the neck in coats and scarves. When they finally reached Joe’s guitar shop, he made a sound like a yodel and an orgasm in the back of his throat. 

“Patrick!” Joe greeted from somewhere in the back, not even having seen Patrick. Pete guessed that said something about their friendship, the kind that they all shared.

“Hey guys!” Bill bounced over to the two of them, clad in a bright red sweater Pete recognized as one of his, left behind after yet another drunken encounter. “Pete, enjoying the day off?”

“If it means I get to jam with you guys, hell yeah” he smiled at Bill. Next to Pete, Patrick grumbled under his breath. 

“Not worth the snow,” he glared at the orangey shag carpeting Joe insisted on keeping from the previous owner. Patrick wasn’t a guy who enjoyed the cold, and in another lifetime Pete suspected he had been a bear, sleeping the cold and snow away somewhere in a cave. He looked a little like a bear, if Pete squinted.

Joe finally emerged from the back, carrying two guitars that looked fresh from their shipping boxes, shiny lacquer sparkling under the fluorescences. Patrick was suddenly more jackrabbit than bear, bolting toward Joe before he even crossed the room.

“Oh, _jesus_ , Joe these are gorgeous! Can I play one? Please? _Please_?” He bounced on his toes, almost making himself as tall as Joe. It was like watching an excited child on Christmas morning, running circles around their tired parents sipping coffee. Joe looked much the part too, hair a little frizzier than normal and bags under his eyes. If Pete was a betting man, he would have guessed Joe had forgotten about their early practice until Bill was kicking his door down.

“Of course!” Joe flipped his curls out of his face, “Why do you think I brought them out?” 

As Patrick was busy salivating over the guitars, Joe trying to keep them as unharmed as possible, Bill looked at Pete out of the corner of his eye.

“So, you and Mikey…?” He asked, revisiting the topic from the night before. Bill may have been the tiniest bit tactless when it came to Pete’s secret, but he was’t stupid, and he definitely wasn’t heartless. He wasn’t going to give anything away, if he could help it.

“He told me he would think about it,” he said, still grinning from earlier. Bill hummed.

“What?” Pete raised an eyebrow.

“Well, has he gotten back to you?” Bill cocked his hips a little, arms crossed over his chest and looking at where Pete’s phone was obviously shoved into his jeans. Pete instinctively moved his hand over the phone.

“No, but he’s busy…” Bill scoffed at that, turning his head away from Pete. 

“That seems more like an excuse than anything.”

“He’s a nurse, he has a lot of responsibility.”

“So?”  

“So, it doesn’t take a day to figure out what you want.” Pete could practically hear the ‘ _duh_ ’ in his voice. “I mean, you said he’s an experienced sub, right?” 

“As far as I know, yeah.” Pete didn’t see the connection between the two, but the way Bill’s eyes were nearly bugging out of his skull, he felt like he should have. This was the side of Bill he didn’t have too much experience with; the brutally honest side that steamrolled over his feelings.

“Mikey has been doing this for a long time, Pete. He knows what he wants.” He cocked his hips in the other direction, shifting his weight, “He’s just deciding how to phrase it. And the fact that he’s taking so long? Can’t be good.” 

“That-“  

“Bill, Pete come check this out!” came Patrick’s voice. He was between them in a second, holding a bright white guitar. “You gotta look at this, look at how gorgeous…”

Pete turned away from Bill and Patrick and glared at the records Joe had mounted on the walls, famous bands he had met while holding record signings in his shop. It was a good thing Patrick had interrupted them, Pete wasn’t sure what he had been going to say. He felt his anger in his throat, and doubt, bubbling hot behind his eyes. The emotions he usually tucked away were now seeing the light of day, thanks to Bill, and Pete…God, why was Bill being so _rude_? Bill should have known better than to say things like that to Pete, the guy known for his moodiness. 

The rest of band practice entailed Pete fudging the rhythm several times, glaring at William when he whipped his head around, asking Pete what was wrong. There was a lot of awkward silences, fret buzz out the ass, and when Pete snapped his A string at the three hour mark, Joe threw up his hands.

“Okay, class dismissed!” he said. “We’ll meet up later, when Bill and Pete’s cycles aren’t synched. We have a show tomorrow night though, so you guys better get it together.” He shot a glare at the both of them, and Patrick just sighed from his place behind the drum set.  

Pete huffed his bangs out of his face and headed back to his bag, putting his bass away and trying not to disturb the snapped string too much. When he finished, he checked his phone for what was probably the twentieth time, and then awkwardly tapped his foot by the door until Patrick was ready to go. The small man was just shuffling on his coat before Pete was throwing open the glass doors, Patrick mumbling, “ _alright, alright, cool it_.”

When Patrick caught up to Pete outside, he gave him a tentative look out of the corner of his eye. “Jeez, what crawled up your ass and died?” Pete grunted, realizing how petulant he sounded as he did so.

“Does this have to do with that Mikey guy?” Patrick raised an eyebrow. Pete almost jumped out of his down coat.

“How do you know about Mikey?” 

First, Patrick looked at him like he was a fucking moron. Next, “Dude, I’m your roommate. I can literally hear you through the walls. You talk really loud, and a lot.”

Pete kicked up a mound of snow in front of him, the icy flakes flurrying outwards and away with the wind. Patrick was another person who wasn’t exactly on his blacklist, but whom he never told out of hesitation. Patrick was his roommate, after all, and he didn’t want to scare him away by dropping an atomic, gay bomb on him. He didn’t have the time to look for another roommate as it was.

“Sorry, man. I just didn’t want to weird you out.”  

Patrick shrugged, “My best friend from high school is gay, you know? And my sister is bisexual, so there’s that, I guess. My point is, you’re not going to scare me away.” He mimicked the way Pete kicked snow, but he miscalculated and ended up kicking it back onto himself. Pete looked at his roommate and smiled, grateful. It was kind of nice to have someone _not_ make a big deal out of it, to just accept it and move on.

After a few seconds of silence, “Yeah,” Pete nodded, “it is about Mikey.”

“And what does William have to do with Mikey?” 

Pete bit his bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth, then pushing it back out. “He was just giving me relationship advice.” The PG version, the one that didn’t end in Patrick packing his bags and moving to Indiana. He would leave that out until he was sure he Patrick wouldn’t freak out, which was about…never.

“See, I wanted to get more serious with Mikey, so I asked him last night, and he said he had to think about it, but he didn’t say no. And then Bill said that was a bad sign, and that he was probably trying to think of a way to let me down easy. He said that Mikey already knew what he wanted, and would have told me by now if he wanted to be more serious.”

Patrick laughed, his head tilting back a fraction, “Sounds like Mikey just wanted a day to think, not…whatever Bill thought.”

“Right?!” Pete bounced, “That’s what I thought, but Bill-“

“Bill doesn’t even know what _he_ wants. Have you seen the mental gymnastics he does whenever Gabe sniffs around? Don’t take advice from him.” He waved Bill’s sentiment off, hand sweeping through the air next to Pete’s head.

Pete found himself sighing in relief, thankful he had decided to confide in Patrick, “I’m so lucky to have one sane friend.” 

Patrick nodded, getting his keys out of his pocket as they reached their apartment door, “You really are.”

Just as Patrick was announcing he was going to make them both some food, Pete’s phone rang. He braced himself to see Gabe or Travie’s name, but when he saw Mikey’s? His heart nearly flew out of his chest.

“Oh! It’s him!” He pointed at his phone. 

“Well, answer it, dummy!” Patrick grabbed his apron off the top of their shared fridge. “I’ll just be here, making food, so don’t worry about me listening.”

Pete bounced over and pecked Patrick on the cheek, his friend pushing his face away just as lips met skin.

“God, you’re so gross. Answer your boyfriend, before he hangs up, you dork!”

Pete blew another kiss in Patrick’s direction before picking up his phone, “Love you, Pattycakes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took a week to get this uploaded, but next week's chapter is going to be extra, super duper long! Okay, maybe not that long, but while most of my updates are 2.5-3k words, the next one will probably be 4.5-5k words. Maybe. Also, I have been working on a few other, short things in my free time (mostly porn-y things, I'm ashamed to say), so those should be uploaded soon as well. If this fic isn't doing it for you (yet), check out my other uploads in a few days.
> 
> Next Chapter: Back to Mikey's POV. Decisions are made, and very important things happen. 
> 
> (okay I know I'm running long on this, but if you like this story please make sure to like it! It takes literally half a second and it's really encouraging to see. It motivates me to get out from under my mounds of school work and put fingers to keys. Thanks so much to everyone who has liked this so far, you're all great and are the reason I keep comin' back for more!)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey angsts some more, phone calls are made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for general medical stuff

After his and Pete’s phone conversation, Mikey crashed that night at work, and hard. He hadn’t even realized he had fallen asleep until Ray was poking him awake with the end of a pen, causing him to startle awake. He shot up straight in his chair, sucking in a breath like he was drowning. Real smooth.

“Woah, hey, it’s just me” Ray said, putting his hands in front of his chest.

Lucky for Mikey, and his job, he had fallen asleep just after his shift ended, in the waiting room next to a woman with a neck rash and a teenager holding their wrist. He looked around the waiting room, mostly empty save for a handful of other people, and Ryan, calling a patient back to a room.

Ray broke Mikey out of his stupor, dangling car keys in his face, “I’m driving you home, remember, space cadet?”

Mikey wiped what was definitely drool off his face, “Yeah, I got you.” He nodded, adjusting his scrubs where he sat. The night before, there had been talk of an oncoming winter storm, and Ray was the only person Mikey knew with four-wheel drive on their car. An angel in a jeep, descending down from the heavens to offer him a ride, amen.

When Mikey finally stood up, he stretched and popped places he didn’t know he could pop, his knees feeling like jello. Ray gave him a look, but handed Mikey his coat instead, along with his scarf and a pair of his own gloves. Mikey could only have been asleep for fifteen minutes, but the from all the kinks in his body, you would think he slept a year.

“What’s got you so tired? And yeah, I’m asking that as a fellow medical professional.” The pair started making their way out the automatic doors, towards Ray’s parked car in the back of the lot. 

“I took a double, not really thinking. An eight double.” Ray gave a low whistle next to him.

“Damn, look at you, Nurse Way. Keep that up and pretty soon they might actually go easy on the puke.” Mikey lightly punched Ray in the arm.

Mikey took in the surrounding parking lot, the snow that had blanketed the city while Mikey slept. It sparkled and swirled under the lights in the parking lot, and as he looked on, a question rang through his mind; _Is it snowing where you are?_

So, maybe that wasn’t the question du jour, certainly the whole “ _Do you want to make a contract?_ ” thing was important. However, the question about the weather had been niggling in the back of Mikey’s mind, distracting.

After his long day at work, Mikey was quiet most of the way to his apartment, Ray talking about the body he had worked with that day. Something about more than one swallowed piece of cutlery, and Mikey was glad there was something to fill the silence between the two. Ray was a good guy, really openminded about the whole sexuality thing, but could he handle bondage? Some part of Mikey hoped not.

“Anyways, you got work tomorrow?” He pulled up to the front of Mikey’s place, stopping to let him out.

“Mmm, yeah, 10am.” He pinched the skin between his eyes and tried not to think too sweet of thoughts about Ibuprofen.

Ray chuckled, “Well, then what the hell you still doing in my car?” He shooed Mikey out. “Get some sleep, you workaholic freak.”

Mikey waved him off as he got out of the car, “Yeah, love you too.”

“Oh, hey, I almost forgot!” Ray reached into his bag and pulled out a flyer, handing it over to Mikey while he stood freezing in the snow. “Two nights from now a friend of mine is having a show across town. You should come with, it’ll be fun.” 

Mikey smiled and nodded, looking at the paper. It was red and black, the lettering loud enough you couldn’t ignore its invitation; _Come See Extinction! One Night Only_! “Sounds fun, give me a ride and I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, dude, means a lot. Now get inside!” And Mikey slammed the Jeep’s door shut.

Mikey waded through the unshoveled snow, Ray waiting until Mikey opened the door to his building to drive off. Mikey took the stairs to his apartment two at a time, attempting to warm up his frozen legs. When he was finally inside, Moz tackled him like a mad animal, licking his face and sniffing him all over. Mikey had a neighbor kind enough to watch Moz during his shift, and as his pit bull licked him, he mentally reminded himself to get the guy a fruit basket for Christmas. 

“Good boy,” He kneeled down and scratched Moz’s tummy, feeling the ache in the back of his knees from a long day at work. When he got back up, he pinned the flyer Ray gave him to his cork board, then started about making himself some dinner; cold leftovers from the day before. As he waited for his food to finish, he grabbed his phone, punching in Frank’s number and hoping he was free that evening.

“Hello?” Frank picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, Frank, how’s it going?” 

“Good, just enjoying a night in with my beautiful soon-to-be husband. Enjoying the snow where you are?” 

Mikey sighed and looked balefully out his kitchen window, “How did you know?”

“It’s everywhere, the news has been covering it like crazy. Apparently it’s supposed to keep snowing through the night,” in the background, Mikey heard Gerard’s shrill voice say something. “Oh, and Gee says hi, and that he’s still tracking down Pete.” He chuckled. 

“Actually,” Mikey sat down at his small, two-person kitchen table, Moz curling up at his feet, “that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Pete, that is…”

“Yeah, let me just,” there was the sound of Frank moving, and the familiar sound of their sliding door opening and closing, “there, now it’s just me and you. Though I gotta say, Gerard’s getting really suspicious. You sure you don’t want to tell him about this?”

Mikey scrubbed his hand over his forehead, “I’ll tell him when I’m sure I’m not going to fuck the whole thing up.”

“That bad, huh?” Frank’s sympathy came through the line, taking Mikey back to when he could rest his head on his friend’s shoulder. Back when he was scared of failing out of nursing school, and Frank would tell him things were going to be okay. 

“Not bad, just…I don’t know, Pete wants to commit and like, draw up a contract and everything. I’ve wanted to do that since day one, but, God, I think I psyched myself out and now I don’t know what I want” he sighed. “And he said this thing today, ‘is it snowing where you are?’. My biggest fear through this whole thing has been me falling for him, but never being able to meet him. Now, I’m not so sure that’s an issue.” 

Frank sounded a bit confused when he spoke, like he was putting everything together, “So, because he implied it’s snowing where he is, you think he has to be close by?” 

“Do I sound crazy?” Mikey’s microwave dinged from the counter.

“No, actually. You sound like a guy who’s been making a million excuses to not be happy.” He laughed on his end, “I think you finally ran out of excuses.”

Mikey was up from his seat now, taking his food out of the microwave with his phone pressed against his ear, “But what about Karen? I like her a lot, and me and her are, I don’t know, we have a thing going on.” 

“Listen, Mikey,” Frank was using his serious voice, one he used when talking Mikey down from dropping out of college, “do you think Gerard was the only person I ever dated? When I met your brother, I had several other people I ‘had a thing’ with. But one day I had to sit down and ask myself, who did I see myself falling in love with? These people I ‘have a thing with’, or the guy who made my stomach do things I thought people made up to sell books.”

There was silence, and Mikey looked out the window, ‘ _is it snowing where you are?_ ’

“The question for you, Mikey, is who do you see yourself falling for? Karen, or Pete?”

Mikey fidgeted with his scrubs, thought about Pete and Karen. Thought about trust, about love, about sex. He was at a crossroads, his next decision possibly determining the rest of his life. And what if he didn’t want just a contract with Pete, what if he wanted more and Pete…

“Thanks, Frank. I think I have an idea of what I have to do now.” 

“Oooh, cryptic, I like it.” His voice was back to normal, and Mikey hoped his was as well.

“I’ll let you know what I decide, okay?” His stomach growled just looking at his food, and his legs ached with cold where wet scrubs met bare skin.

“Totally. I’ll tell Gerard you said hi.” 

“Thanks, man. You’re a good guy, you know? That’s the only reason I’m letting you marry my brother.” He chuckled.

“And why you’re not knocking down my door with a shotgun, right?” A smile on Frank’s end.

“ _Riiiiigh_. Night, Frank.”  

“G’night, Mikey.”

—

The next day, Mikey worked his shift like normal, the conversation from the night before still weighing on him. It didn’t even feel like a full six hours when his lead finally came over to him, telling him to clock out. 

“Early?” He raised an eyebrow.

She lowered her glasses to look at him, “What time do you think it is?”

“Sorry…” Mikey then scurried off in the direction of the morgue, to wait with Ray until his shift was over.

When he finally got home later that night, after another long conversation about severed body parts and other, just as macabre subjects, Mikey flopped down on his couch, tossing his arm over his eyes. He had thought all day about what to say on the phone to Pete, and still he hadn’t the slightest idea. He could feel a headache coming on, and the pads of his fingers burned against his eyelids as he scrubbed them over yet again.

He took his phone out of the pocket of his scrubs, stared at the screen until he felt the taunt string he had been tuning for days inside him finally snap. He unlocked his phone and picked Pete’s number out from his recent calls. 

“Mikey!” Pete’s voice on the other end, brighter than Chicago had been for days, refreshing. 

“Hey, Pete. How’re you?”

“Mmm, good. Cold, but good. What’s up?” He sounded it too, the edge of tiredness voices took on after days of treading through snow. Mikey was sure he sounded much the same. 

“Just wanted to hear your voice, is all” 

“Well, you caught me,” There wasn’t disappointment, just Pete. Mikey breathed out through his nose, closed his eyes and imagined Pete was on the couch with him, or maybe in the kitchen. The sound a second pair of socks on the floor would make in the small, city apartment.

“How was work?”

Mikey opened his eyes and looked back at his ceiling, “Fine. But just fine, nothing too interesting today except for a kid with a weird rash.”

“Sounds thrilling. My roommate is making an early dinner for me right now, I’ll let you know if any weird rashes appear on me afterwards.”

“Not a good cook, huh?”

“He’s fine. Not terrible, just fine. I bought him a bunch of cookbooks for Christmas, but I think I’m going to have to try a little harder this year. Give him a coupon for cooking lessons or something.”

“Can you cook, though?”

“Can _you?”_

Mikey chuckled, “I can cook well enough for a guy in his mid-twenties who lives alone. I’m not helpless. I can make a pretty mean grilled-cheese.”

“Well, if we ever meet up, I’ll be expecting one of those.” Pete’s wily grin, coming through the phone like it was a part of his voice. It might as well have been.

“Yeah,” If. If they ever met up. “If” was the operative word, and Mikey’s chest echoed, hollow and low with the undefined “if”. The word wasn’t enough for Mikey, the thought of never hearing his footsteps or sharing a meal. There was a bubbling like soda bubbles in his chest then, a smile despite his thoughts come to dance on his lips.

Mikey knew what he was going to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Mikey sees a band live, and him and Karen talk.
> 
> \--
> 
> So. I lied. This chapter is pretty short, so I apologize. Sorry this took forever and a day to finish, life hit me pretty hard this month, between getting sick, conventions, and school. Thanks to everyone who left kudos, though, you all are the best!


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